


Wretched and Awake

by Z_is_Me



Series: Laura Kinney and the Avengers [1]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-23 (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bruce Banner - Freeform, Gen, Hank McCoy - Freeform, Laura Kinney has lost her memory, Memory Loss, tony stark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26722141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Z_is_Me/pseuds/Z_is_Me
Summary: What is this? What is she? Her mind flashed by, moving a thousand miles a minute. Panic crept up, enveloping her in its tight, hot embrace. Her heart slammed against the walls of her ribcage, and her chest heaved, almost painfully. Laura closed her eyes, searching for something, anything that may exist in her mind to help her smother this feeling. But there was nothing. Beneath her closed lids and in the depths of her mind she saw only this room, only the claws and the blood from her finger, and only the blue water on her skin. Her mind held only the events of the recent past and some jumbled fragments of words; wolverine, mutant, avengers, and Laura.---Laura Kinney wakes up in a strange place, with no recollection of what she is or where she is.
Relationships: Laura Kinney & Avengers, Laura Kinney & X-Men Team
Series: Laura Kinney and the Avengers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944790
Comments: 8
Kudos: 6





	Wretched and Awake

Laura opened her eyes gradually, cautiously letting in the light. It was bright in this room, horribly bright. The surface beneath her was hard and cold, pleasantly unpleasant. Her limbs felt stiff, and only by looking down did she realize she was laying on a table. Droplets, blue as the sky, beaded against her tan skin. Laura sits up, cringing at the loud, painful crack of her back. She takes in the room around her. The walls appeared to be metal, along with the floors and ceiling. The door was tall and made of glass, allowing her view into an empty hallway. There was a screen embedded in the wall, opposite the door. There were other screens too, connected to large control panels. The table she was sat on lay in the center of everything. Her clothes, a black t-shirt and shorts, felt clingy, as if they were damp also. Bandages were wrapped tightly around her wrists and legs. A particularly thick bandage framed her ribs. It all felt so constricting. She threw her legs over the side of the table, watching as her bare feet dangled just above the floor. It seemed far away as if when she stepped off she would be sent falling forever. The thought amused her in the strangest of ways. Laura pushed herself, feet stinging as they hit the ground hard. There was a weak feeling in her knees, all over really. Everything was so fuzzy - like the room was made of cotton. 

“Hello,” she said into the empty air, though she was speaking to no one, and had no intention of finding anyone. Laura didn’t know why she’d even spoken. It was a fruitless plea. 

Carefully, Laura stepped away from the table and toward the nearest screen; a sheer blue monitor with a sleek control panel. Her fingers moved to press an orange button. The partition glowed with life. How had she known that? A logo swirled onto the screen; a striking, silver A. Avengers. The word rang in her head, but she was unaware of its meaning. Slowly the A faded, and in its place came four photos. Each of the x-rays of what appeared to be the same person. It was a female’s skeleton with identical markings on the ribs and sternum. She then noticed some extra bones - two tucked between each of the ones in her arms and one on both of the feet, situated between the metatarsals. The familiarity she felt seeing them was confusing, to say the least, and she didn’t know if it was the atmosphere of the room or the fog in her mind. But something caused her to raise her fist, and clench it tightly. She watched both fascinated and disgusted as two metal claws peaked from the skin of knuckles. 

Laura outstretched a hand prudently. The blade was sharp and solid and still warm from where it’d been sheathed within her. She ran a finger up to the point of the blade, feeling the metal cut against her skin. A string of crimson ran down the blade, developing the base. She pulled back her finger, watching as the small cut sealed together and disappeared, as if it had never been there. Not even a scar remained. What is this? What is she? Her mind flashed by, moving a thousand miles a minute. Panic crept up, enveloping her in its tight, hot embrace. Her heart slammed against the walls of her ribcage, and her chest heaved, almost painfully. Laura closed her eyes, searching for something, anything that may exist in her mind to help her smother this feeling. But there was nothing. Beneath her closed lids and in the depths of her mind she saw only this room, only the claws and the blood from her finger, and only the blue water on her skin. Her mind held only the events of the recent past and some jumbled fragments of words; wolverine, mutant, avengers, and Laura. 

She knew that she was Laura, and her assuredness that this was in fact her name was something she found heartening. The other words, though, were still a mystery. They held a meaning though, that was something she was definite of. She didn’t know the meaning, didn’t have the simplest idea of what the meaning might be. What symbolism could a damn wolverine have?

There was a distant padding of heavy feet against metal. A muffled hum funneled into Laura’s ears. It was pleasant and deep, like a father’s lullaby. It calmed Laura, and there arose an instinct to back away from the relief. It was a horrible instinct, something so masochistic that it had a shiver running down her back. Laura relaxed her hand, allowing the claws to sink back into her hand. It hurt no more than the sting of when they’d first come out. The slits in her knuckles sealed closed with the vilest of sounds, a wet and sticky tune that inspired goosebumps on her arms. 

Regaining what slight semblance of composure she had, Laura moved towards the glass door, footsteps silent. The humming had stopped and so had the footsteps. She peered through the glass door and into the barren hallway. The walls were the same deep, metallic grey of this room, though the lights seemed less intense. She pushed the door and stepped out into the corridor. Her steps were light as if any sudden movements would disturb the air itself. 

There two doors ahead, facing each other. They were alike, down to the scratches at the bottom. Light peaked from beneath them, meeting in the center of the hallway. The hum came again, slow and smooth. Laura approached the left one, setting her ear against the cold steel. The gentle tune vibrated as it came to her, along with something else. Gentle bumps, melding together in an out-of-sync melody. Heartbeats. Four to be exact. 

Then a voice came, rough and loud. “Hank, you have to stop humming,” It said.

“Apologies, Mr. Stark,” Hank contrited, voice smooth, like whiskey. The humming ceased, and all that remained were the gentle thump of heartbeats. Some were slow, some were quick, and one, in particular, was a droning that was attempting to mimic a heartbeat. 

“Have you checked on her today?” The rough voice, apparently named Mr. Stark, asked.

Hank's reply came quickly, “This morning.”

“How were her vitals?” Stark questioned again, though his tone had a hindering of something Laura couldn’t quite place. 

Hank spoke, tone holding that same strange quiver in their tone, “Stable; heartbeat controlled and brainwaves steady. It shouldn’t be long now.”

“Are you sure?” said a new voice, small and stuttery. 

“Most definitely. Her brain has completely healed, allowing the remainder of the wounds to fully seal. Laura should be waking from her coma any day now,” reassurance flooded Hank’s leveled tone.

Realization struck her hard and fast, like a slap to the face. They were talking about her. She’d been in a coma. It explains the fuzzy feeling and lack of memory. A flash of relief banishes the tension from her shoulders. She wasn’t crazy, wasn’t hallucinating. She gave a small sigh of relief. 

The pat of footsteps against the floor pulled Laura from her thoughts. “Do you think she’ll remember anything?” Mr. Stark asked. 

“In cases such as these, it’s very difficult to make assumptions, as they differ substantially,” Hank said, ”Logan’s memory was simply buried deep within his mind, while Victor’s was completely tarnished. There is no constant result.”

“So you’re saying that she could have completely lost her memory,” Mr. Stark paraphrased, voice faltering towards the end. 

“I’m also saying it could be temporary amnesia. Nothing is definite,” the other argued, so controlled that it barely sounded like an argument. Yet… the statement came across so firm. 

There was a huff, and the stomp of footsteps coming closer. Laura panicked and began shuffling backward. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed to get far away. As her back hit the cold metal of the wall, the door swung open, revealing a man; tall and broad, dressed in a crimson suit that just radiated wealth. His skin was tan, and his hair was black with small streaks of grey. 

The man’s mouth hung open, dark eyes wide as they stared down at her. His words were spoken in a whisper so quiet it was almost inaudible. 

“Laura.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
